Remember My Future Mishaps
by TheInconvienientChipmunk
Summary: Dean's tale begins with a hunt an ends with a hunt; first mundane and last of all... Well, that one hasn't happened yet, so he can't really remember. - yeah no, I don't own supernatural... (3 writers, each writing little parts) Hiatus, because we're lazy little Idjits
1. Brains?

"Whoa!" The slimy, rotting arm of the zombie swooped down, narrowly missing Dean's head and instead swinging through the air in circles. Dean took the confusement as an opportunity to run back a few meters, onto the wall. "Come on!" He urged, banging the end of his gun with his palm. "Work!" He looked up briefly at his hunt to see it stumbling about, wondering where he went. He liked Zombies, they are just so dumb. He felt around his pockets again, muttering curses under his breath at the lack of ammo. The creatures grunt brought Dean back into the present. He rolled across the wall, just missing the creatures charge. He couldn't stop the snort of laughter that came with anything running full steam into a plastered wall. He coughed at the white, grey dust swirling in the air. He backed up again, using the temporary, smoggy blindness to get into a better hiding place. He sighed in relief as his fingers ran over a single -hopefully - copper bullet. His fingers shook and fumbled down into the depths of his jean pocket. Just as the fog was clearing, he managed to pull the damn thing out. He cocked the barrel of the gun, ready to put the bullet in. He almost dropped the thing twice before he felt a dull, ache in the side of his head. Hit by a spell of dizziness, he found himself on the debris covered floor. On instinct he finished loading the gun pointed it up into the sky above. With a quick, fuzzy look up, he aimed at the great, yellow blob and fired. The only way he knew he hit his target was the signature thump of something large and dead hitting the ground. Dean groaned, holding his head; it was hot. Hot and throbbing like hell. With a shake of his head - which he regretted - Dean managed to pull himself onto his feet, then rested against the wooden beam behind him. He looked around at the aftermath of the hunt. This undertaker was going to be pissed when he got back. The once pristine zombie house was now a not-so-pristine, _dead_ zombie house. After rubbing his head one last time and taking a final glance around the room, checking for anything he may of left, he started hauling the dead beast back to his baby. He just prayed to anyone listening that he'd brought a bag big enough for this thing. He pulled it out of the double doors of the funeral parlor and out onto the gravelly pathway. The stones crunched beneath his feet and the sound of the zombies tearing flesh made him thankful that there was no blood to be spurting out right now. He could just about make out the Impala on the driveway in the dark, chilly night. Both his heart and feet sped up as he heard a car drive down the entrance to the paring lot. "Ah, crap" He muttered as he heard some profuse language being spouted from the driver of the said car. He ran to the car, leaving the zombie where it was and opened the trunk. He looked back at the bearded man who was emerging from the blue Prius. That guy had to be the vampire responsible. Hadn't he?

"What the hell are you doing?!" Cried the man, throwing his hands up in the air in anger.

"I-" Deans suspicions where confirmed when the mans eyes where bathed in a red, yellow mist.

"How dare you kill my creation!" He cried, stalking forward with a reddened face, clenching his fists so the knuckles went white.  
"Dude, that's your creation? I'm my biology classes all we did was dissect a few frogs."

"Shut up, you impudent fool!" Dean turned around quickly to search his arsenal. A tight hand tugged sharply on his shoulder, spinning him around. The vamps face was inches away from his own, teeth baring and forehead creased. "Before I kill you, tell me who you are!" The crisp command made Dean smile.

"The name's Dean Winchester. When you get to hell, ask about me." The look of confusion on his face was replaced with a silent, crippling scream as the stake in deans hand was plunged, straight through the side of the mans ribs. Before the man finally dropped, he muttered something. The words where slurred by the blood pooling in his mouth. Dean pushed the man off, watching as the floppy limbs fell onto the stones. Before that thing had any hope of coming back, he striked his lighter on his jacket and threw it onto his body. When Dean was satisfied that the cotton was going to be enough to burn him to a crisp, he got back to work ridding himself of the zombie, left decaying a few yards from the car. He pulled the black bag and duck tape out of the trunk and got to work bagging and drowning the beast.

At the lake, after chucking the body in, he watched it gently float down stream, sinking steadily. The current should have it in the sewer systems within the day. It should have fully decomposed by then. Dean took this moment to relax. He winced, now the mental distraction was gone, all he could feel was his head pounding. He drew his hand up to the source of the pain. He brang it back down to see a clump of bloody hair on his fingers.

"Well, shit" He muttered, rubbing the blood of on his jeans. "Better get back to the motel then..." He concluded, hauling himself off the trunk of the Impala and back into the drivers seat. He pulled the phone out of his pocket and dialed Sam's number.

"Hey, Sammy. Jobs done. Where are you?" With one hand, Dean inserted the keys into the ignition, turning it and hearing that glorious sound of the engine roaring into life.

"Hey, I'l meet you back at Illinois central, Just gotta finish this off." Sam's voice was rushed and not really focused on what he was saying. The crashing in the background earned the click of the off button at Sam's end.

"Yeah, bye" Ended Dean sarcastically, flipping the lid down and sliding it back into his pocket. He remembered Illinois central from a previous case. He took one last breath before driving off, out of the reservation and back onto the highway. It took a good 2 hours before he reached the large, run down hotel. It was 11:20 and the night was even colder than before. He didn't quite understand how it was called the central hotel. It was a wreck. He pulled up anyway and got out of the car. He ran in as the first drops of rain started to fall onto his jackets. He was greeted by the busty, brunette at the reception desk. He smiled back, charmingly and lent on the counter. He assumed that Sam would just use his normal name.

"I'm here for the Boston room." He caught the woman's eyes, she didn't seem too impressed. Without saying a word she searched the computer then shoved a key onto the counter in front of him.

"Sleep well, Mr. Boston." She yawned, not interested in Dean at all. He gave up, just settling to walk back down the hall and get his head fixed up and preferably, while he was at it, get some sleep. The key in his hand said floor 6, room 66 on the cheap plastic label. How appropriate. After about 3 years of stairs and winding turns, he finally found the room with his number on the door. He put the key in the door and twisted it in the lock. He pushed open the stiff door and looked into the room. It was actually, pretty descent. A bit run down, just like the outside but generally OK. He shut the door behind him and put down his keys onto the desk beside him. He jumped back when he saw the outline of a man, standing by the rain drenched window.

"Hello, Dean"


	2. 2 men, one room

"Hello, Dean" Dean braced himself, his hand crawling round under his jacket to his gun, eyes transfixed on the man. He didn't move until the figure turned his head; the tall, shadow blocking out the full moon. Wait, Dean recognized that face...

"Cas." He laughed, his heart returning to normal pace and his hand pulling away from the gun in his pocket. "You scared me for a moment." He didn't realize Cas would be here, he usually just appeared behind you at some completely inappropriate moment.

"Sorry." Cas chimed, turning away from the window completely and walking over, closer to Dean.

"You sound chirpy today" He commented, seeing the slight smile on Cas' lips.

"And you don't." He replied, tilting his head.

"Dude, my head feels like freaking whack a mole with ADHD kids. You try and be chirpy." Cas raised his eyebrows and smiled a little wider, looking down at his shoes.

"Tel me about your day then." Cas asked as Dean walked around behind him and slouched down onto the bed, just resting on the edge.

"Went out hunting one of Frankenstein's pets and I've only just got back." Dean peeled off his jacket. This room was in serious need of air conditioning.

"Got scraped I assume?"Cas asked, seeing the blood clumping together dean's hair.

"Yeah" He replied, touching the cooling cut.

"You've got to stop doing that" Cas laughed. As in, full on laughed, teeth showing, the works.

"I must of hit my head harder than I thought." He mumbled, rubbing the semi-open wound. "Got any alcohol?" He could only assume this was his room.

"I'll do it for you, no mirrors. Just relax"

"You alright Cas, you sound off." Dean started to wonder what Cas had been doing, or what he was about to do.

"Dean, is a man allowed to be happy when everything is going right? Another demon dead. Smile" This was odd, but he'd been in odder. He just needed sleep and a lot of alcohol. Sleep, alcohol and a busty blonde. He watched as Cas pulled the whiskey off the side and needle and thread out of the Chester drawers.

"You ever done this?" He asked, suddenly hit with the fact Cas had never humanly healed any one before.

"How old am I?" He replied jokingly "Now, just relax." Cas got on the bed behind dean, making the rough fabric dip beneath him. He took the bottle that Cas was holding over his shoulder. He topped the cap and swigged. "This won't hurt... much"

"Thanks." He winced slightly as the tiny sip of whiskey did nothing to stop the sharp sting as the alcohol ran over his wound.

"There's something in there..." Cas muttered, running his finger over that part of deans scalp. He rested the bottle on the bed and used both hands to inspect the red stained area.

"What is it?" He asked, a little worried. He felt Cas press a little closer and a little higher to see his head better.

"Looks like..." He paused again before tilting deans head back. "A tooth." Dean cringed. No teeth had been anywhere near his head.

"Human or?..."

"Err... Looks like... a troll tooth. Why were you fighting a troll?"

"I wasn't" dean replied, more than a little confused.

"Right, I just need to get this out." Cas tilted Deans head forward again, looking at the cut in a different light. "It's under the skin, Dean. This is going to hurt" Dean laughed at Cas' lack of acknowledgment of his manliness.

"Cas, I'm sure it won't- fuck!"

"Done, now try to relax, just need to stitch this up." Dean relaxed, Cas' hand on his shoulder holding him in place. He was man enough to take _this_ pain... Cas picked up the needle and threaded it carefully, after tying the knot, he brang it to deans head and placed his free hand on the other side of the gnash, pushing the two sides closer together. Dean could take this pain, the small, sharp sting as the needle pierced the skin.

It was a while before Cas had finished, although a lot quicker than Dean had expected. "Done" Stated Cas, patting him lightly on the shoulder.

"Well, thanks." Acknowledged Dean, checking out his head with his hand; the slight bump where the skin was newly together. He watched out the corner of his eye as Cas walked over to the white door on the opposite wall. He saw the blue tiles and basin inside, indicating that it was a bathroom. Cas started to wash his hands. Did Cas have to wash his hands? Obviously he did.

"So, you ready to go?" Cas asked, drying his hands on the red, hanging towel beside the sink.

"Of course." He shouted back, mumbling to himself how two monsters in one day was a little ridiculous.

"You stay there, I've got to get ready." Dean nodded. He shifted round so his legs rested up on the bed. He might as well get a little rest before the next hunt. His plan was that as soon as he got back, Cas was leaving and Sam was going in another room, then he was hitching a date and then sleeping. Nothing was going to deter him from that plan. Unfortunately for Dean, it wasn't more than a minute before he started to smell something faint and interesting.

"What's that-" He stopped as the smell got stronger. It was a good smell. It was... sweet and relaxing.

He smiled as his eyes drifted shut. The atmosphere quickly changed, it all mellowed out. He couldn't help but to lean back onto the bed, leaning softly on the headboard. His skin grew warmer still in the sticky room. The world seemed to spin. He couldn't help the smile when his arm tingled, a shock ran right up his arm. The hazy drunkenness made everything go numb. He felt his lap grow heavy before his head fell sideways, his body completely relaxed, his heartbeat and some far away sound filling his head. He felt like he was falling. His chest felt funny, like a snake was running up it.

"Dean" He could hear a soft slur, whispering to him. It was very close; close enough to make his neck tickle. The voice made the top of his legs twitch, or was that something else?

"Hey" He giggled, basking in the intoxicated euphoria. Dean must be his name. It was a good name. He gasped, feeling more and more of what he did before. He liked it, it felt good. He wanted more. He could hear muttering. Like little birds. Then, as quickly as it came, it stopped. Dean pouted. Something warm and wet ran along his cheek. It felt funny. He chuckled a little, making the feeling stop. He giggled again as something took his wrist.

"Open your eyes" the voice came again. Louder this time. Not a nice pleasant voice.

"No" He giggled back, trying to look stern but laughing even more. This was fun. He frowned when he realized he was being pulled up. He kicked up his leg, earning a yelp from whoever was annoying him. "Down" He moaned, trying to squirm out of the hold. The hand let go, letting him slump back onto the board. He could feel the blanket on his legs move. He pulled back on them, not wanting the heat to go.

"Dean" The voice came again. More annoying than ever. "Open your eyes!" The voice commanded. Dean opened one eyes just a crack. He couldn't see much, the world was blurry and colorful Pretty. He opened his eyes fully, looking to the swirling ceiling. He smiled as the patterns moved faster, changing color and coming closer. He head was yanked down by the chin. He saw a man there in between his legs, one hand on his face, one on his groin. He was a funny looking man. The man looked confused. Funny confused. His eyebrows were moving.

"Dean, why-" He started to move away a dean was too much of a happy clapper at this point to stop him. Cas managed to stop the incense burning. "You usually have this much" He muttered to himself, watching as he giggled up at the white, plastered ceiling. "What-" Cas internally punched himself as he actually looked at deans jacket. That was his jacket a year ago. This wasn't his Dean. He'd just dosed a clean dean up on twice the recommended dosage of Tenox. No wonder he was a gibbering wreck. Cas sighed, rubbing his eyes.

"Time you had some coffee" Spoke Cas, cheerily to the drugged up Dean. That night was fun.


	3. Again?

"Ohh..." Groaned Dean as he crawled back into consciousness. He squinted as the light peeking through the crack in the blinds was hitting his heavy eyelids. At least his headache was go- "Shit" No it wasn't. He ran his tongue over his dry lips, his mouth tasting like the inside of a barn. He could just about hear a shower running from the other room through his ringing ears. He turned his head to the alarm clock on the side, feeling his tight, aching muscles protest.

'9:40' He closed his eyes again because the world seemed a little too happy this morning. He rubbed his eyes with the back of his hand in an attempt to at least see _anything_ this morning. He managed -after a few failed attempts - to hull himself up onto his elbow. This way he could see just above the dusty ray of light that lit the bed beneath him. He looked down at the tousled sheets tangled up with him. The scratchy sheets were a light, coffee brown, obviously not by design but by age, judging by the smell anyway.

Dean collapsed back onto the bed, sighing deeply, wishing he was still asleep. He was used to this, waking up with no memory of the previous night but, he had to admit, he'd never been fully clothed before and usually there was a chick beside him. He moaned, groggily as a few snippets of information came back to him about last night. He remembered the hunt, the injury and something about a bag. After a few more memories surfaced he came across one that really freaked him out.

"What the-" He muttered as he recalled the smell. 'Was that drugs?' He thought to himself, horrified by the notion. He failed to comprehend what the hell happened. No way in hell was Cas responsible for that. No. A demon must have- Dean really didn't understand. He racked his brain for what happened afterwards, in an attempt to piece the night together. However hard he tried, through his fatigue and mental blocks, he hit a wall every time. Last night, really was a mystery.

The sound of the running water from the bathroom stopped. He waited a few moments before a Cas drying his hair with a towel opened the door.

"Hoped you might be awake by now. I can only apologize-"

"What the hell did you do? One moment I'm about to go hunting with you, the next, I'm waking up in your bed," Dean didn't even understand the outburst himself, let alone expect Cas to understand it but, apparently he did. "Sorry, don't know why I got that angry..."He laughed again. _Cas_ laughed too, as in opened his mouth, turned up the corners and laughed.

"That's to be expected" It only then became apparent to Dean what Cas was wearing. He was wearing _clothes. _Not the trench coat and suit, but his own clothes. Dark blue jeans and a loose AC/DC t-shirt. Deans mind spun a little. He didn't know where he was, what happened last night, what the hell as up with Cas and he didn't even know if he was awake or dreaming.

"Whats happening, Cas. Where the hell am I?" Cas smiled at him, his eyes scanning his face.

"You're in 2016, Dean."

"Excuse me?" Dean sat up straight, ignoring the ensuing head rush.

"2016." He repeated, a little louder. "Where are you from?" Dean raised an eyebrow.

"No, I'm sorry but the same shit can't happen to the same guy twice." Dean looked around the room, not believing he was in fact in 2016. It had only been a few months since the last time travel shenanigan. Not only did this not match with the future he saw in 2014, those dicks of angels couldn't of been there to send him back. Before Dean could continue his inner monologue 3 loud knocks came from the door, drawing Deans attention.

"Come in, Sammy" Called Cas, ripping Dean's head back from the door.

"Sammy? Really?"

"Dean" Came Sam, walking briskly into the room.

"Sam, what?" Dean looked at them both; Cas and Sam where standing side by side, looking down at him on the bed, both smiling.

"Morning" Continued Sam, trying to keep a straight face.

"What is so freaking funny?" Dean snapped back, angered by the laughing. He was lying there, no memory of what happened last night, being told the year was 2016 and they were laughing at him.

"So, Cas tells me your not our Dean." Said Sam, crossing his arms. Dean didn't quite know how to answer.

"First off, I'm nobody's 'Dean', secondly I don't even know what's happening so you better start explaining, brother, or we aren't getting nowhere."

"Dean, I already told you, it 2016"

"It cant be" He threw back, looking Cas straight in the eye.

"It is" Seconded Sam "23rd of November 2016. What year is it for you. Don't want to give to much away." Dean looked into their faces, looking for any sign that they were joking, any hint of untruth. He sighed in defeat as he drew a blank.

"2009" He said simply, pulling the covers off his legs, throwing himself over the edge and standing up. He took a few steps forward until he reached the window. He moved the plastic slats away with his finger then peered through the gap. It all looked the same, no Croats, no blood and no death. How the heck was this 2016 when what he saw in 2014 was the end?

"2009?" Echoed Sam, looking a Cas confused. "What was happening then?"

"I believe that was the apocalypse" answered Cas, remembering back to the beginning of his long journey with Winchesters.

"Oh, right." Muttered Sam "He hasn't come from anything serious then-"

"Nothing serious?" Dean cut in, not quite believing how easily they dismissed the end of the world.

"A lot worse happens, Dean" Cas explained, tilting his head, running his eyes down Dean confused face.

"How can anything be worse than Lucifer escaping?" Sam smiled,

"Believe me, a lot" Sam continued, shifting his weight onto the other leg.

"Dude, I need a beer, and some serious amounts of pie. Then I'm figuring out a way to get back before I discover that future, future me is even more of a dick, capish?" Dean pointed at them both, not settling for them telling him all kind of crap he really didn't need right now.

"Okay, fine, but you are a dick" He really could punch Sam at this point. He was just about to consider it when something buzzed in Sam's pocket. Since when did Sam buzz? "Hey Cas, we got ourselves a 425."

"Already? We just sorted out three."

"Seems like they just can't stay down."

"Okay, back up. 425?" Dean asked questionably. "What's that, some kind of, alarm?"

"No, its a demon - vamp mutant. They're evil little shits at best. Wont take em' 4 minutes to rip you inside out and serve salsa with your spleen."

"Well, Cas, that sure cleared things up."

"Feel like helping us kill a few?"

"While I'm here, might as well. Just as long as, as soon as we get back, were getting me home. Back to 'oh, don't worry,_ it's only the** freaking apocalypse**!_'."


	4. This is normal

Dean, Sam and Cas had decided to get some grub before they headed off to the highway. If they were going to take an under experienced, confused past dean on a moderately dangerous hunt, purely because they had too, they deserved a damn burger. Sam ran back to his room down the hall to get his jacket. It was the middle of winter, so far too cold to leave the motel wearing just a thin, plaid shirt. By the time Sam caught up, Cas and Dean had already made their way down to the reception desk where they were talking idly to the day receptionist; a dark skinned man with a slight, uneven beard, dressed in a suit 3 sizes too large by the looks of things. Patting Cas on the shoulder, Sam walked in between the two and smiled cheerfully at the man.

"We'll be back in a few days" Informed Sam, resting his other arm on the desk.

"Where you going this time?" He asked back, typing the new information into his dated computer.

"Texas. You know, get a feel of the good ol' country life." Dean felt his bile rising. The Man smiled, nodding. With a quick exchange of goodbyes, the trio pushed themselves out of the glass double doors by the entrance. Sam started pacing his way through the parking lot, lifting up the collar of his jacket to keep the harsh, bitter wind off his neck.

"Dude," Dean complained, jogging a bit to catch up with his brothers pace. "Texas? Really? We're going to Texas?" Dean shivered as a particularly cold gust flew up the inside of his own jacket, running up his top and pricking at his once warm skin.

"Of course not, Dean" Sam laughed, turning out onto the busy, 'rush hour traffic' filled road. Dean did up his jacket quickly, fearing the same to happen again. Dean winced at the smell of fumes and petrol mixed with the sound of someone's god awful music blaring from an unknown direction. Looking around, Dean felt uneasy. This place looked exactly the same as when he came in except it was day, it was suddenly winter and it was less of a mess outside.

"We just tell him that so he can't follow us, we stay there when were not on a hunt. The hole place is monster proof. No angels, demons, ghosts, ghouls or vampires can get in that building. It's perfect."

"Oh right, but where we eating?" Asked Dean, changing the subject to something more important to him at that time.

"Just some better than life cafe down a little high street." At least, in the future, Dean could still count on his little brother to be the gay, overly-feminine Barbie doll that he is.

They continued their half walk, half run down a few grungy backstreets, dodging drug dealers and prostitutes who seemed to take an unusual interest in them, worryingly, mostly in Cas... Dean shook himself from that thought frame quickly, holding all the accusations for later, when his head didn't hurt and he had some decent food in his stomach.

"So, how do you know it's these mutant 425 things?" Came Dean, breaking the growingly uncomfortable silence as they jogged in the rain, down another smelly little alley, clear of any human life. He was pretty sure something was growing in the dumped rubbish pile, though.

"We don't know much, we just know the signs and follow them. Heard over the radio about suspicious deaths and skinning's and, well, we've been at it long enough and there's rarely anything else around, now a days."

"Right, but... What do we actually know, know? Location? Number?" They turned the corner into a slightly less grubby area. Dean, at last could inhale without the smell of used diapers and frying onions.

"All we got is that a few of em' are running a little all you can eat buffet at the Cathedral in Fresno, California."

"California?" Dean nodded. "Awesome, some sun. Please tell me you guys take time out after a hunt to enjoy yourselves?"

"Always, Dean, always." Dean approved greatly. It was another 5 minute walk through a residential area then into a small square of shops before they reached the corny cafe that had grey smoke billowing out the chimney, diffusing into the air around it.

"Ahh, my boys!" The loud Italian accent made an impression on Dean straight away as they walked through the door.

"The usual please, Duncan." Shouted Sam, directed to the slightly under-fed man, clothed in an apron behind the counter. The bell above the door rang as the door drifted shut. They then moved onto a 4 seater table by the window and sat down, Dean next to Cas and Sam opposite to Dean.

"Coming up, chaps" He nodded back, turning round.

"What's my usual?" Asked Dean, glancing over the greasy, laminated menu. "Don't tell me I turned all health freaky and order a triple salad with extra tomato..."

"Ha" Panned Sam, huffing in amusement. Cas just smiled at the statement although the humour of it seemed to be missed by Dean "The 4 story monster." Offered Sam, looking Dean in the eyes. Dean raised an eyebrow back.

"It's a burger" clarified Cas, smiling down at the table. Dean rose the other eyebrow.

"The 4 story monster? What am I, _five_?"

"Trust me, name might be dodgy but it's called a monster for a reason."

When the food arrived just a few short minutes later, they all took no hesitation to dig right in. The portions were huge and the taste, well...Wow.

Cas was - surprisingly - the first to finish. Well, it wasn't really surprising with the speed that he was shovelling down the syrup smothered pancakes down his throat. Fair dues to him though, they smelt better than sex. Dean really wasn't that hungry, so really, him even comprehending finishing the beast in a bun in front of him, seemed a little ridiculous. He was only about a 4th of the way through when he looked up to see most of the people in the cafe looking at him (well, all except Cas who was half asleep against the window beside him)

"What?" He published, looking right back at the semi-stunned onlookers.

"Dean" Hushed Sam so only Dean could hear, smiling apologetically at the old couple in front "These people know you, they just think it's a bit weird that you're not eating it all." Dean grimaced.

"So future me knows them, don't mean we have to tolerate being stared at because I can't finish this freaking mound of diabetes." All the curious people that 'Dean' knew, soon turned back around to finish their own little conversations. Dean laid down his own cutlery, pushing the over sized plate further onto the table. Dean sighed, tilting his head back. To be honest he felt a little sick. He guessed last night probably had something to do with it. He'd have to get around to asking Cas about that.

"Anyway, better be going." Came Sam, finishing the last bite of his own meal. Dean put a hand on Cas' shoulder, rousing him from his sleep. He peeled his head off the glass wearily, his eyes widening as his alertness returned.

"You've got to stop doing that Cas," Muttered Sam, earning a mock smile in return. Dean just shook it. He didn't want to know what crap they got up too, he really didn't. With that, Sam, Cas and Dean rose from their chairs, the back legs scraping on the wooden floor. Grabbing a few napkins and sneaking a few sauces into the back pockets, they all ran back the same way they came, except a little slower, weighed down by their starchy, fat filled breakfasts. They reached the Parking lot and took no hesitation in clambering into the warm, dry Impala and escaping the early drizzle that indicated heavy rain was about to come. Sam was elected to drive, kicking Dean into the front passenger seat and Cas into the back. It was all decided fairly and democratically, by Rock, Paper, Scissors.


	5. This much fun should be-

The first moment of the drive was strange. Not because it was awkward, or that Dean felt in anyway out of place, but because five minutes after Dean had discovered he was back in spoiler land, he was on a hunt. He was forced to accept how everything would become this one day. That was a strange feeling... Again. However, the first few hours on the road - after that - were _fun._ Not just 'a smile spread out on your face' fun, but the kind of fun where even Dean Winchester was laughing so hard he had to undo his seat belt. He didn't quite know why. It might have just been the random input from Cas in the back seat at perfectly timed points, or the way Sam and Cas just joked and chatted so freely. Dean was pretty sure he had only said about 10 words to anyone, but even so, he felt part of something a lot bigger. This was a road trip. How was that even possible? But at the moment, the conversation had dwindled. Everyone was just thinking, enjoying the atmosphere that was a lot less awkward than he was sure it would be. Sam was driving with one hand, playing with the radio with the other. God, song flicking was annoying. All was forgiven though, when the intro to 'Ramblin' On' blasted out the speakers.

"This was your favorite? Weren't it?" Checked Sam, not taking his eyes off the road but motioning his head towards him, Dean smiled again. He had now reached the point where his cheeks ached. He honestly couldn't remember the last time that had happened and he _wasn't_ plastered.

"Yeah, Sammy. Good one." His brothers eyes re-averted to the road but continued to look at him, wondering what happened. 6 years and suddenly they were all care free and wild. He wasn't complaining but if he knew, perhaps he could do it sooner. This was Awesome.

* * *

It had grown dark before either of the boys had noticed. Dean looked out the back window, the road behind them devoid of cars. The view outside was trees, wet gravel and various signs that Sam obviously didn't need. Even in Deans time, they didn't need directions. He moved his eyes lower, to the scraggy looking man resting on the leather beneath him. Cas was lounging across both the backseats, humming to a different song than the one playing. He was staring absently as the ceiling, tapping his fingers on his knee, foot swaying to the beat in his head. He was obviously not _his_ Cas but at least he wasn't the completely drug reliant hippie he was in 2014. His brow creased, turning back, not wanting to be seen staring at him. Dean didn't like 2014, obviously, that he knew, but 2016? So far, so 'meh, at least there's California'. He sighed, closing his eyes, leaning his head against the cold window.

"You tired?" Queried Sam, looking at him briefly through knotted eyebrows, the usual overgrown hair and frankly ridiculous sideburns.

"Just thinking"

"Well, think a little quieter, you're giving me a headache." He couldn't see it, but Dean felt that annoying little smirk that Sam undoubtedly had on his face.

* * *

Every 3 hours or so, they would stop and get out for a walk, a leak or even a snack. That was new to Dean. Usually they rarely stopped, about twice a day was the norm (apart from the motel in the afternoon and usually somewhere for lunch) It was good, the snacks more than the walks obviously. He'd discovered about 50 new sweets and the portions now are even larger than before. He didn't care about the extortionate price, his brother was paying and they had fake everything. Food tastes so much better when its free.

* * *

Outside, the owls where cooing and the leafless trees held hands and danced on the side of the road. It wasn't too long before the rain started to come, the pounding on the roof was relaxing, if slightly irritating, muffling the Metallica that was playing. He watched as the rain drops ran down the window, pushed backwards as the wind ran over the car as they traveled at near 80 down a deserted highway. Dean needed a beer. A cold, crisp one. Preferably with a cream pie covered in sprinkles - maybe whiskey - and steam billowing off it on the side. A simple mans wish in the most confusing of times.

* * *

Dean was nearly asleep when his brother spoke. There was always something about road trips and him, he would just sit and think then fall asleep - well when he wasn't driving or annoying his brother which - in all honesty - was most of the time. "Don't mind sleeping in here, do you?" Checked Sam, pulling into a dark, service station parking lot.

"No, nothing different." Dean answered plainly, undoing his seat belt.

"Want to get some food first?" Sam added, seeing the sign on the roof of the station.

"Best idea you've had yet." They both Felt their neck muscles crack as they peered round at Cas, who had his head tilted back over the seat and his mouth slightly open. His shallow breathing showed he was asleep.

"Do we wake him?" Asked Dean, watching as Cas' eyes moved beneath his thin eyelids.

"Nah, leave him for a bit. I know what he likes. We can eat in the car." With that, Sam and Dean slid out of the car quietly, stretched as they stood up then - shutting the door behind them - started to walk towards the blue and red, neon sign saying 'Open 24/7'.

They pushed open the door into a cheaply decorated, heavily lit room and strolled up to the plastic, condiment laden bar.

"What can we offer you today here at Freely Fries?" Came the monotone voice of the dorky, bored looking teen behind the register.

"I'll have a Double cheese burger with extra fries, a..." He paused looking at his watch. "Coke as well please. Can I also have a small portion of fries on its own and a blueberry muffin with a coffee." Sam looked at Dean expectantly. Dean turned up his nose at the cheap, take-away menu above his head. He knew from experience that the pristine, appetizing pictures that the signs promised always dissapointed you. Well, at least they had beer and pie. Admittedly the pie didn't even look like pie, but he was working on the logic that if he imagined it would be, _it would be_.

At least there was bacon.

"I'll have the double bacon sarnie, large fries, a beer and an apple pie." He said, looking at Sam skeptically mouthing 'really' at the state of the joint.

"We've been here before, trust me the foods not as bad as it looks. Bit like a rip off McDonald's."

After a short wait, they were handed their brown paper bags with the cheesy handshake logo printed on the front. They made their way back into the parking lot, dodging the cars coming in for late night petrol who were most likely racing at the speeds they were doing. They clambered back into the car, the smell of greasy buns and melted cheese waking the out-of-it Cas from his slumber. They all finished their meals, stashed it in the back then fell (Somewhat disgracefully) into a deep, short sleep. Knowing that was the last they would have for good few days.

* * *

That was pretty much the way to next 3 days went: driving, eating, laughing, driving, eating. Lets just leave it by saying they weren't entirely happy when the Cathedral sign appeared and delayed their _very important_ hunt with the excuse that they hadn't tested out the bowling alley or eaten all the burgers yet.


	6. Fun in the dungeons

Cas and Sam had gone off to have a tour of the grounds, asking locals about the cathedral Dean just took a walk around, told to just blend, look interested and don't kill any 'Vampons' till they got back. He didn't do a lot except buy a pack of jerky, stuff it in his pocket then proceeded to buy some popcorn from the adjacent stand, sweet of course, when no one was around. It was a good hour or two before the troublesome duo came into Deans peripheral vision.

"What do we know about this Cathedral then?" Yawned Dean, resting his hand on his knee, basking in the early afternoon sun. He polished off the last of the popcorn and put the empty bucket by his feet, under the bench he was perched on.

"It's Roman Catholic, built originally in 1882 and is popular so we'll have to go at night." Sam answered, sliding next to Dean, stretching his arms out beside him, feeling the tight, cold muscles pull back.

"The tour guide pummeled us with useless information, most of which was incorrect." Cas pointed out, while sitting down next to Dean on the bench. The view out onto the street was nothing special. The white washed stone wasn't particularly beautiful but Cas seemed entranced. Like he was staring into the Cathedral at Milan.

"Any obvious demon signs?" Dean wondered, running his palms over his jeans, straining to gather a little warmth from the friction.

"None, must be down in the crypt. It's currently 'shut for maintenance'." Mocked Cas, puling his foot up to rest on his knees. Dean found himself staring again. This was ridiculous. He couldn't help it though. He carried such a happy expression but Dean couldn't put his finger on something; why did his smile never reach his eyes? Something wasn't right, in that moment of still in the storm, Dean could think. They looked happy, truly happy, but so did 2012 Cas-

"Gonna be fun busting them out" Added Sam, running his hand down his cheek, fingers brushing the light, sharp stubble gracing his face. Dean turned his eyes to Sam, his mood the lowest it had been since he arrived and it wasn't even anywhere near low. He couldn't help the smile that came. He welcomed it. It was nice. He wasn't going to look to deep into anything from now on, he needed a break and this was it. His chance to step back from the Apocalypse and know they all got out of it.

* * *

The boys waited and wondered. They wasted time chucking stones into the shallows stream and annoying the grumpy old man that was playing chess on his own, badly. They laughed and joked, rolled out innuendo after insult and probably killed about 4 ducks with amount of stones they were skimming. It wasn't long before the sun started to set, casting a red glow on everything, the cloudless sky was unusual for this time of year, but global warming can be a bitch sometimes. They waited until it was an hour before closing time to enter the grand building. Taking a few moments to at least seem like they were appreciating the architecture (enough not to look suspicious, anyway) and then 'left' out the back door loudly proclaiming their need for a pint. Instead of pursuing the misleading lie, they found their way into the toilets that looked new and relatively unused. Hearing a woman walk in about 15 minutes after closing time, they held their breath and sighed as she closed the door, satisfied that no one was in there. They heard the lock click shut before they started whispering jokes to each other again. Deans jokes were outdated ones that Cas and Sam had undoubtedly heard millions of times before, but they still earned a little chuckle in the darkened, white tiled room. They wasted even more time, drawing on the mirrors with the lipstick that Cas 'happened' to be carrying, writing random words, like apocalypse, demons, hell and damnation. You know, nothing that could be conceived as offensive to a bunch of demon whores.

* * *

When complete silence finally assured the boys that whatever was in this building wasn't up here, they picked the lock from thee inside, their eyes adjusting to seeing without the torch lighting their way. The stained glass window looked a little creepy, the giant saint peering down on them as they felt their way towards the yellow tape and signs pointing out the restricted access to the crypt. Sam ducked under the tape, holding it up fro Dean and Cas. Realizing the sound that there shoes made on the metal, stone debris down inside the 'tomb', the decided that going shoeless might be a good idea. Slipping off the said items, they slid them into the corner and carried on down in the catacombs, the smell of musk and brick dust ever present, the chilly air pricking the skin, the fear raising the hairs on the backs of he boys necks. "Where the hell is this thing?" He whispered, rhetorically into the air, annoyance lacing his tone. The corridor was eerie, the low arched ceiling gave a cold feel to the room, the wooden beams creaking above them, the floor moving under foot.

"He's defiantly here, Dean." Added Sam, turning his head round the corner of the beams. The dark chamber seemed to carry on forever; the only sounds being heavy breathing, three sets of feather light footsteps and the occasional drip of water from the damp, stone ceiling. He gagged, as a putrid pungent smell invaded the air around him. It smelt of bad eggs and sick, like moldy bread and tip ex. A acidic smell that burnt as it went into his lungs. He pulled his top over his nose, the effort only helping marginally. They reached a rotted wooden door, loose on its hinges as if something kicked it down. Dean nodded at Sam, expecting to burst through the door first like always, but Cas managed to slip in front, pushing him backwards slightly. Ignoring the unusual tactic, Cas - instead of bursting in as expected - Crept in, pushing the door quietly away with his foot, gun brandished in his hand, poised and ready to shoot. They all gasped at the door jerked violently, hitting the frame with a loud vibrating sound. They braced for the hordes to come.

None did.

When they shared a glance, mentally agreeing it was safe, Cas carried on, stepping over the wooden wreck, minding the giant black hinge poking out of the frame. The other two did the same, Dean before Sam, acknowledging that Dean was the weakest here, both tactically and physically. The door led to some stairs that led downwards. They were uneven and eroded, the middle dipped down and the rope hand rail way frayed and torn. The bottom of the decent looked black, no light or good omens comforted them as the crept down the steps, keeping low, knees bent and gun out in front. The stair winded round, the spiral making them lose direction, enveloping them in complete darkness and a cold chill that more often or not, meant bad things were certain. It wasn't until about 2 minutes into the painfully slow, cautious descent that they heard it. A scream so violent and helpless that it made them jump. Their bodies immediately went into help mode, their legs in sync, running down the stairway, 4 steps at a time so fast they almost fell down. The pushed through the tarpaulin leading into another dark room. They halted their selves, the screaming had stopped. In their profession you had a few rules. The one that applied now was that if the screaming stopped, the victim was either dead, or whatever was causing the pain, was coming after you. They mad a triangle, at each others back, guns ready and eyes squinting, seeking out anything in the semi-dark, the only light coming from a far away light down the other side of the room. All the boys could hear was the frantic beating of their hearts, even years of hunting didn't stop the fear, you just knew what to do with it. The light down the end flickered, catching the full attention. It flickered again. The boys straightening, the light flickering in the corner of of their eyes, as if something was circling them, fast.


	7. Red eyes and Revelations

The boys backs touched, not seeing what ever was running around them, the cause of the light breeze hitting them. It wasn't until Sam was yanked forward by a slender, red eyed female that the lights stopped flickering. Cas soon found himself preoccupied with a bearded man who was clawing his face and Dean quickly found himself straddled on the cold floor by a fat, sweaty old lady. His gun, thrown into one of the walls surrounding them, Dean's top shredded at the front by the hag's curled nails. He could hear the grunts of the others mixed with the snarls of the 425 as he held the mound of fat by the throat as hard as he could. He winced as one of her nails ripped into his skin, his warm blood leaking out. Luckily, the cut could have been a lot deeper. He couldn't help the sigh of relief he felt as that bitch was pulled off him by the back of her straining shirt by a rather sweaty looking Cas. Dean gasped as his lungs could finally get the air that the things weight had been denying him. Sam also entered his view, they both stood above him, discretely chuckling. Dean felt the urge to knock them out tempting. He took Cas' outstretched hand and was pulled up, his feet a little unsteady. Once he had punched Sam on the arm, he walked over to where his dusty gun lay, a dent just above it where it had been launched into the wall. He picked it up, groaning as he felt the finger shaped dents that she had imprinted into them.

"Well, the guns are useless, good job that's it" Sighed Dean, chucking the gun back on the floor, feeling it unnecessary to carry it around with him.

"You think that's it?" Asked Sam, in a very familiar, Sam way.

"Don't tell me there's more of those freaking things"  
"Sorry, they usually hunt in large packs. Those three were probably the guards. You see, there arrogant little fuckers. Think that one can take out anything. Of course, one breakage of their skin with iron, they're dead motherfuckers." Proclaimed Cas, flicking out his knife from his pocket, kissing the tip. Dean looked Cas up and down, the use of swear words from him was unsettling. Even at this stage. Sam stopped the discussion and started walking off towards the direction of the light, which led them down another thin, low route. Dean, this time, was at the back. They came across another door, this time it was in tact, slightly open the acidic smell seemed to be a lot stronger here. He watched as Cas and Sam walked in through the door, watching curiously as they twitched.

"You might want to-" Before Cas could finish, Dean entered the moldy room, lit with various wax candles. The body in front of him was strung up, the limp, broken wrists bound by rope and the bruised feet held in place by metal, blood soaked chains. Her head still bobbing up and down, the neck held on by a sliver of bone and one measly scrap of skin. Every part of her cold, yellow skin exposed to the hot, moist room and every part soaked in her thick, red blood. Dirt littered her body as well as the floor around, her clothes in pieces by the tool table. The instruments they had used to torture her, laid out, pristine and newly cleaned. They obviously took pride in their work.

Before they had time to gag anymore at the sight in front of them, they saw about 10 more of the damn beasts appear behind them. They were thrown into another scramble, knives being swung through the air, more often than not hitting one of them. Sam found himself cornered by a few, Cas had killed all the ones coming after him and Dean was just finishing the last one, hauling the knife under its ribs. These things were surprisingly easy to kill. A demon-vamp mix should have been harder to kill. However, Dean soon realized that their strength wasn't what was making them hard to kill, their speed and sheer number made up for that weakness. They were once again swarmed by them, the room literally flooded with the damn things. Dean found it hard to distinguish a Beast from Sam as they constantly ducked and dived, avoiding the drunken devils that Dean was pretty sure were blind, judging by the lack of actual fighting skill.

"How many of these freaking things are there?" Dean yelled, dodging the latest ones knife. They were laughing like maniacs, high fiving each other and acting like children and they were still kicking Sam, Dean and Cas' collective asses.

"A lot" Shouted Cas, hoarsely swinging his pocket knife into the female cleaners side, her intestines spewing out, the red mist pouring out instead of blood. It was that gross distraction that allowed Dean to let one of those sons-of-bitches' knives get anywhere near his... Favorite part of himself. It was an exhausting effort but eventually, eons later, they had picked them off one by one, Dean learning from Cas and Sam the best ways to kill them. It was best to go from behind, apparently they were blind. Dean realized how little he knew about these things before he was brought in here. They were too caught up in banter and jokes to even think about the fact that he could die if he didn't know enough about them. Well, his father always said, the best way to learn is from experience. Well, no he never said that, he never said a lot of things. Stepping over a bloody body, Dean walked over to Cas who was sitting on a chair in the corner, catching his breath. Cas had his eyes held in the corner, he looked exhausted, more than this much exercise should have made him. He turned his head to follow his line of sight before Cas called his name.

"Yeah" Answered Dean, eyes diverting to Cas face. Cas didn't say anything though, he just looked at him with a blank expression, as if he had just realized something. 'Odd,' thought Dean, confused by how different everyone's characteristics were this short into the future. "Come on, Sammy." Called Dean, turning to walk down the corridor to where they next lot would be.

"Yeah, in a minute Dean, just sit there and wait a moment." Dean felt something crawl up his throat while something large and slimy died in his gut. There was Sam, talking to one of them, not skewing it. What?

"Sam, what are you-"

"Seriously dean, don't worry, its fine. We'll be leaving in a bit" He didn't know what was worse, they fact Sam was actually saying this or that it was even in a malicious tone. Sam still sounded happy and.. him. He was speaking to dean like he expected him to think this was completely normal. Was he actually chatting to the red eyed man in some janitors clothes, or what?

"Sam, kill him" He said plainly, refusing to accept what his head knew had happened

"Why would I kill him? Look, this is their leader, were just discussing how many to kill and how many we get to have." He explained casually,

"Have for what?" Asked Dean calmly, his fist clenching against his red jeans.

"Well, whatever we want. It our agreement, we catch them, we get them" It suddenly hit Dean; no, this wasn't fun, this wasn't the jokes and laughs that he had back in the car. Sam and Cas were... messed up. This life was messed up. These 425 are evil sons-of-bitches and they're not just killing them where they stand?! Future them didn't have an easier life, were they were just so beaten down and broken that they needed this game, this deal and these beasts. He didn't know what to do, Sam was just chatting idly to one of the survivors as if they lived next door and shared cigars every Thursday in their pretty pink gazebo. Was this it? Did they become the monsters themselves? Cas too? Him and Sam had taken an angel and turned him into that? Him and Sam, he knew they always had that coming but Cas? God, He thought Cas would've died first. He couldn't stand the sight of his brother anymore so he walked up to Cas, pulled him up off the seat from where he sat, still smiling and dragged him into an adjoining room. Due to Cas's clearly tired state, it was an easy task.

"What. The. Hell? Tell me I'm interpreting this wrong. Tell me you and him aren't taking these things as slaves? Nothing deserves that. What they hell are you doing?"

"Dean-" Sighed Cas, looking down, obviously bored with the conversation already.

"They're monsters!" Dean urged, his throat burning at the intensity of his yelling. Suddenly Cas' head flicked back up, his muddy, greasy hair covering one eye.

"I know-" He swallowed, nodding knowledgeably.

"Then why are you hanging out with those things? Huh? Why not kill them? What happened - and don't say life because I swear-"

"Dean." That simple syllable stopped Dean. He had heard broken, he had heard dying, and pain and sorrow - he had known them like family, but the way Cas just said his name, was indescribable. Cas' blood shot eyes flashed with something; not anger or sadness, not pleading and for the most part it didn't look like guilt. "How was I meant to stop you?" Cas turned away, the bloody knife he was carrying slipping out of his fingers, clanging onto the floor. "I couldn't-"

"Yes you could Cas! Of course you could! Didn't you see what you were becoming?" Dean couldn't help the anger, the pure unmitigated rage.

"No..."

"How?" Asked Dean, spinning Cas back round roughly to see him face. To look him in the eye and make him man up.

"Because I went along for the ride." Cas shrugged dean's hand off his shoulder. "Okay?"

"Went along for the ride?!" Cried Dean, his mind racing, conflicting emotions tearing him apart.

"It's fun!" Dean stood back, mouth parted, running his eyes down the 'angel' in front of him. Cas's eyes darted to the side, eyebrows rising. "Well, perhaps fun is the wrong word."

"Hopefully"

"I mean, you haven't felt it. Even future you didn't want to know. I respect you greatly for that Dean and that's why I-" He sighed again, rubbing his bloody hands on his trousers. "Things didn't go wrong, Dean. Things went in the direction we all knew it was going to go. Did you really think life would let Sam Winchester stay sane? Did you think by some incredible good luck, I could escape the disease of humanity. Did you think you, of all the people in this small world, could just leave without being a little dead inside? Things aren't bad, Dean." Cas' face shifted. He seemed to pause in thought, his face easing up a bit as if he realized something "Scratch that, things are shit, now. Things are dead in the land on Winchester and we are beyond redemption. Any one who would've helped, either I or you killed. Karma's a bitch."

"So, what are we?"

"Broken. Dead. Sick, whatever human adjective you want to label us with, just know you and Sam don't think the same any more."

"So you do?"

"Of course, I hate it, I once represented everything good and holy and now I'm hooking up with the scum of hell every fortnight and washing the taste of blood out of my mouth, but hey, who the hell am I to play god?" Cas chuckled at the latter part of his sentence, his eyes lightening up and his cheeks crinkling.

Dean swallowed thickly, looking deep into Cas' eyes.

"Will you help me fix it?" Cas blinked, running his tongue over his dried lips. He shook his head subtly.

"There was a time when I would've said always, Dean. I don't know if that's still the case-"

"Cas, dammit" Dean grabbed the ex-angel tightly on his shoulders, pulling his closer, inches from his face. Dean shook his own head, licking his own lips.

"Can't we try?" He felt the hot sting of angry tears well up in his own eyes as Cas breathed heavily beneath his fingers. "Cant I make up for whatever the hell I did wrong? Can't- Can't I be the one to save you? Seems like I've put a lot of steaming horse crap on your plate, apparently more than Sam, and him? well I'll sort him out when I get home. We've just got to try..."

"I don't know what you think there is to fix, Dean. I don't think you understand the situation. It's like dropping a crystal glass then trying to stick it back together with PVA. Know, if I could I would-" Dean held up his hand, turning away from Cas. Since he'd been here, he'd bonded with them. He had convinced himself they were good and everything had turned out kind of alright, exactly like they deserved. Obviously, and crushingly, it hadn't.

"You know what, screw you, Cas. With your sob story and acting all innocent. Try at least. I'll be back." Leaving a speechless Cas, Dean left the room, slamming the door, hard behind him.


	8. Endings must take their turn

Dean slammed the door behind him, his eyes closed, teeth grazing his lip. He groaned absently, leaning back against the door. He ran his hand against his chest, feeling the raised, tender scratch beneath his palm. The revelation weighed on him, the reluctance to look at his brothers face stopping his feet moving. He couldn't quite get to grips at how he could let that happen to them. How could he let Sam and Cas go to the dogs and not even try and help. Future him sucked. He was trying to blame Cas, if he was being honest, that was a lot easier. To say Cas was the angel and he should have stopped it, but with 2014 fresh and sweetly smelling in his memory, he knew damn-freakin' well that_ he_ was the one to blame. He snapped himself out of his hateful, painful thoughts by jerking his head sideways He looked at Sam regretting his decision There his brother was shaking hands with them. Well shit. Dean couldn't take anymore. He slipped the knife out of his pocket and hid it behind his back. Walking up to the dodgy looking male, he pulled its head back by the hair and - a little _too_ gracefully - slit its throat. He was far too skilled at that for his liking at the moment.

"What the hell, dean?" Sam practically cried, his arms flying up, questionably.

"Dude, if you weren't, who was." Sam looked into his brothers eyes, forehead brooding and eyebrows knotting.

"Dean-"Before Sam could get out another word, a herd of mutinous, horribly deformed 425 crawled into the room. What was this? The Exorcist? Nope, just their life.

"Oh great, Dean. Now you really pissed them off!"

"Well sorry if I'm doing our job!" Before the arguing could escalate, Dean was punched in the chest, throwing on to the wall, landing loudly. The young boy who was creeping up to him was hazy as he was getting the air back that that son of a bitch had knocked out of him. That thing was painfully slow. It's _third_ arm pressed his chest against the wall, twisting its cracked, bile colored flesh deeper into the scratch, reopening the wound. The spiny fingers crawled up his face, trying to stop the insults and curses that Dean was rolling of his tongue, it's two expected hands holding his hands down, stopping him from getting his knife. Dean watched out the corner of his eye in strangled horror -literally- as the man ran into the room in which he had left Cas. His heart pounded as he heard Cas's deep, strained scream echo through the halls only moments later. He expected to see Sam run to help, but instead he just kept on trying to worm his way out by saying Dean was new, his head not even flinching. Dean struggled against the child holding him down, biting down hard on the hand in his mouth. The thing on him pulled his hand away, giving Dean the opportunity to kick his chest, sending him into the chair in front of them. He took his chance to pick up his knife and ram into his stomach The thing squealed, the familiar mist rolling out of its mouth, eyes and chest, flicking over Deans shaking skin. Twisting the knife before pulling it out, to make sure it was dead, Dean ran towards the room so fast his head spun. He choked as he got there, seeing the dead body of the 425. He looked up at Cas who was breathing heavily. Dean was relived, Cas wasn't dead at least. Wait- At that point Cas collapsed onto his knees, blood pouring out of the gaps in his fingers on his right shoulder, a claret stain spreading over the logo his grey shirt. Dean ran up to him, holding him by the shoulder, panicking as Cas gasped for air.

"Dean, I'm fine" Came Cas' weak tones.

"Fine?!" Exclaimed Dean, eyes wide with shock. Dean put his hand over Cas' adding to the pressure on the wound. Can he die? He's been hit, of course he can die. "Sam, get your butt here now!" He cried out, shifting Cas to lean more on him. "Keep your eyes open," He urged, his fingers growing sticky with blood. He didn't look up when he heard Sam _walk_ into the room.

"Cas' been hit" Dean rushed, pushing Cas' back up, keeping the heavy body from relaxing completely.

"Why did you let that happen?" Asked Sam annoyed, his brow brooding.

"Sam!" Dean shouted, sick of his brothers attitude. "Don't tell me you don't care about Cas too?" He felt Cas' hand slide up his arm and grip on tightly to his skin, as if to tell him to back off. "Hes going to die if we don't get him out, now I can't move him myself so get your head out your ass and help!" Sam looked even more annoyed.

"Cas" He moaned, walking up to the pair. Dean looked down at Cas' face. He had tears welling in his eyes and his forehead creased with the pain. Sam put a hand on his shoulder. "He wont last the journey up," Sam said, feeling the mans temperature.

"How they hell do you know? Just help me get him up." Dean was angry too, angry at his 'brothers' blatant lack of emotion.

"Ah well, Cas. You knew this would happen one day." Dean used his free hand to pull his brother closer by his collar.

"Please tell me you are joking you sick, arrogant son of a bitch."

"Dean, just look at him. There is no point trying to carry him up all those stairs, it'll just make it worse. If the wound doesn't get him, the poison laced in their bite will." Poison? They never mentioned poison. Dean let go of Sam, who then looked back at Cas. Dean looked down to the red, swollen cut across his chest and closed his eyes. He felt Cas's grip grow tighter on his arm, his own fingers curled round his waist and pulled him closer. The least Dean could do is comfort the man a little. After what he had said just moments before.

"How can we get rid of the poison?"

"You can't" Said Sam, a little softer. Dean looked at his brothers expression. To his brothers defense he did look broken up. He was looking at Cas with a crushed expression and he was running his fingers through Cas' hair. This was Cas - maybe future Cas- but Cas all the same. Even though Dean hadn't known him that long in the grand scheme of things, from what he had seen during the times he had, he knew they were good friends and obviously stayed together. He considered Cas a friend, hell, the best freaking friend he had. The least Sam could be doing right now was crying, something was most certainly wrong, and now, without Cas, he hadn't a chance in the world of helping. Dean didn't have the energy or the need to stop Sam when he stood to get up. He didn't want to hurt Cas further by moving him and he knew Sam would be zero help. He just held the shoulder wound tighter, trying to ignore the warm sensation seeping into his jeans from the more serious damage. Deans eyes suddenly widened as he felt Cas' warm, sticky lips touch his own. It was hard and rough, with Sam out the room, Cas had used his good arm to grab his by the collar and yank him down.

"Css" He mumbled against his suddenly strong lips. He wasn't even sure what was happening at this point. Dean tried to pull away, uncomfortable being an extraordinary understatement for the feeling he had right now. Dean flinched at the forceful 'broken' hand that had grabbed the side of his face, fingers poking painfully into his temples. With a rush of pain, light and nausea Dean couldn't breathe. All he could see was light. White, beautiful light. The noise ruined the tranquility a sharp, high-pitched ring that echoed through his brain. The pressure in his head growing, his eyes stinging, straining against the over-powering phosphorescence. Then as soon as it came, the blinding sun left his head. He opened his eyes, seeing green and blue dots swirl around the room, his mind still a little dizzy. The tension in his head, however did not go. The threat of one serious headache looming over him. He supposed that was what happened when someone had their fingers digging in their part of their head directly next to their brain.

"Cas, you-" Dean looked in his arms. The un-shaven, grubby, bloody mess of a man lay slumped in his arms. His head thrown back, neck straining and jugular protruding. His chest still and his his eyes not moving as if to suggest he was dreaming. No. Castiel, Ex-Angel of the lord, was dead.

* * *

**Authors note:**

**Hey :) I was re-reading this and something seems off about this fic. I am the one that wrote it so I cant see what is wrong :) I would appriciate it to no end if you could please take the time to review and let me know :) This my first attempt at a fic longer that 5 words so I'm a bit out of my depth. Thanks very much, dearies xxx :DD**


	9. you're watching Supernatural

"Sam," He spoke sullenly, not quite sure what to do. That niggling, uncomfortable feeling ate at him. This was future Cas, past Cas was fine, this was fine, this was, this- He felt a heavy hand on his shoulder, the warmth radiating through his shirt and confusing him even more. Too many people had died. To many thoughts ran through his head; the rush of everything happening, everything hitting him; he was afraid if he moved, he'd leave to eye of the storm which he was perched in now.

His head hurt.

"They're all gone" Came Sam's not-quite-soft voice, Dean nodded. His head raced with theories and speculations and he wasn't quite sure why. This hurt but he was numb, he wasn't emotional, he was mourning the loss of Cas nor was he particularly mad at Sam anymore. He wasn't even sure he cared about the future anymore. He did feel guilty though, holding Cas in his arms and knowing he didn't care that he died, about feeling fine with all of this. He remembered hating it all, it was just a few seconds ago when he was about to rip this universe up then at least try and stick it back with 'PVA', now he just wanted to get home. With all this mental anesthesia he wasn't even sure where home was. It was like he was looking at everything through a white, cloudy-haze.

"Dean, you alright" Dean took a sharp breath, his eyes demisting and his head whipping back into now.

"Yeah," He stuttered, worrying slightly as his tongue grew numb. "just, err..." He laid down Cas' flaccid body onto the floor with care, as if every bone was made of precious crystal. "Can we go?"

"You wanna take Cas up?" Dean didn't even care about his brothers bi-polar emotions at the moment.

"No" It just slipped out. But Dean didn't he didn't want to move the body, somehow it felt safe in here, a room littered with blood, dust and dirt. Wow, this shit was going to his head. "I just want sleep Sammy," Maybe Dean couldn't do the whole 4 days without sleep anymore, maybe he was too old. Dean shook, he didn't feel great.

* * *

The drive back was... Empty. Sam spoke to Dean about things Dean didn't hear. Dean would sleep most of the time, waking for food or to take the wheel. It didn't register to him, how different he was, how odd he was feeling. It was like a permanent head rush, like he stood up too fast or ran out of a hot shower into a freezing room. He was almost used to this though. It was the same when anyone died. Dean was practiced in the art of suppressing everything; he was a master at just clicking his fingers and making everything go away. But of course, this time it's different. Dean slips sometimes, all his anger bursting out and he just has to turn the music up a little louder. He knows he's stuck here now. He doesn't know why he decided - in a moment of carelessness - leave Cas' body there. He'd asked on multiple occasions to go back but Sam was refusing and Dean was too tired to argue. He knew if he stopped trying to suppress what he felt, he'd hit Sam square on the face. Force out his slave trading habits. He knew if he gave himself the chance he'd get out the car and scream at him. He knew himself. The days went by quickly and Dean soon found himself lying on his motel bed; as brown and pungent as he remembered it. He repressed another pang as he looked over at the drawer hanging open from the dresser with random tops protruding from it. Cas had packed his clothes from there before they left.

* * *

"Cas?" He mumbled into the warm hand that was clamped over his mouth.

"Shh" Came a warm; hushing voice into his ear. With a rustling of coats, Dean felt that welcomed nausea in the pit of his stomach as he found himself standing back where he'd left Cas' body almost a week before. The hand didn't move off of his mouth and he still couldn't see who the pressure on his back was; the only telling signs were the smell and the stubble. That smell- he hadn't smelt that in near 2 weeks...

"Dean, are you okay?"

"C'ss?" He mumbled against that calloused palm.

"Yes it's me, be silent." Dean wanted to both punch him and hug him. It finally sunk in; they were back where he had left Cas, Cas was alive and holding his mouth shut and he wasn't even questioning this? When did his life become this fucked up. Question is, _when wasn't it?_ The perhaps a little too forceful hold on his face was finally lifted, he immediately turned round to face the_ cleanly shaven, trench-coated Cas._

_"What?!" _Dean stuttered. "What the hell? Are you _my cas?_" Cas' face fell to the floor, his hands taking a sudden interest in his cuffs.

"I- No"

"But you're an angel now, I guess?"

"Obviously"

"But, you still look- After 6 years, you're still sporting that tax-account look?"

"I don't not know why I am dressed like this, Dean. I just remember, well, dying. One moment I was dead, the next I was standing next to you- Past you i should clarify. I was confused and then I found this in my coat." Cas pulled a rumpled receipt out of his pocket and handed it to Dean.

"Wow, at least I know you buy Tampax and... triple strength condoms. Useful information to know, Cas." Dean almost cracked up at his newly revived friends face as his eyes widened in 'not-embarrassment'.

"That part is not of import, Dean. Turn it over." Dean ignored the glorious opportunity for a gag handed to him on a silver platter and did as the suddenly-angel demanded. Dean still didn't understand. On the back was just a few random scribbles; Like wavy lines and semi-circles.

"Yeah, sorry, I don't speak doodle."

"They are not just random drawings, Dean. That is Ancient Enochian."

"Enochian? That looks nothing like Enochian. Looks more like hieroglyphics"

"I suppose that is what you call them." It was way... too early for Cas to be explaining this.

"So, those Egyptians weren't just crack pots?"

"We were young, Dean. Ruling an Empire seemed fun at the time." Dean nearly chocked.

"Hold up? Are you actually telling me those pharaoh dudes were actually angels?"

"Of course, there was nothing else much to see down here, you apes had a long time before writing would emerge. I, unfortunately was less successful in my time, I was the last Pharaoh. It was very enjoyable, but can we please get back to the note; this isn't a history lesson." Dean just about managed to reply through his near painful chuckling.

"Alright, Cleopatra, what does it mean?" Dean ignored the evil, impatient glare he was receiving from the 'goddess'.

"It reads, roughly translated of course, 'Trust you to die, had bets on Sammy being first to hit the bucket but anyway, welcome back. Return to your body with your -friend and wait a while.'"

"Oh" Panned Dean, casting a glance as the perfectly preserved corpse in the far corner. "Who do you think wrote it?"

"Don't you understand?"

"No, that's why I'm asking."

"Dean, At this point, all the angels are dead. There are no angels in the heaven above us. If there are any left on this rock at all, or any in the universe, they are hiding. He either came from your time, which i highly doubt because they wouldn't know about current affairs or, it's not an _angel_"

"If an angel didn't write it, who did? God?"

"Possibly, or an archangel." Dean rolled his eyes, Cas missing his point completely.

"Hang on, why aren't arch-angels in the same category as angels?"

"Why aren't apes in the same category as humans?"

"Because we aren't the same species..."

"Well, there you go then." Dean's head was hurting again.

"So what are we going to do then? Just sit here and wait."

"Stand would be a better verb but yes, the general meaning." Something was off, Dean could feel it; Cas sounded like his Cas, angel-like and nothing like how he was before.

"You feeling alright" Cas did't answer. Just before Dean was going to repeat the question, the flaming torches on the wall flickered then faltered altogether. Dean flinched as he felt a - what he prayed was Cas' - hand grab his wrist and lead him forward.

The lights exploded back into life, the high pitched, painful crackling sounds and sulfur smell hit Dean as well as the blinding white light coming from whatever was in the door way. He felt Cas's hand fly over his eyes, the light dimming only slightly beneath his eyelids.

"Go get a vessel before you try and speak to us, I'd prefer it if Dean stayed with all his nine senses." As quick as it came, the burning magnesium faded; the ringing ceased sharply; the echos still clattering around in Deans head. It was only a few mere moments before a steady, masculine voice spoke out, the low, gravelly tones hitting the stones walls smoothly;

"Hello, boys."


	10. Beginnings

**Authors note:**

**I have made this arrangement so that me a two other friends will each write character's part to make sure they all have their own personalities, so s****orry if this chapter seems a bit jumpy. I just got all the parts back today and have had to join them up some how. Thank you, we hope you enjoy xxx**

"Hello, boys." Cas froze; Dean's eyes still clamped together as his whole body shook.

"But you are dead." Cas muttered to the unknown man, his hand sliding off of Dean's wrist.

"If I had a virgin for every time someone said that, I wouldn't be able to walk."

"How are you here?"

"Why ask the unimportant details. Why not ask why you're here?" Dean finally recovered from the orchestra in his head, peeking out of his eyelids. The man was unfamiliar, though he stood in a position on authority. Dean twigged when he spotted the lollipop in his mouth.

"Gabriel." He sighed plainly, watching as Cas strode forward towards the short, long-haired man. Dean wasn't sure he was in the mood for 'The Trickster.'

"I'm glad you recognize me. I was toying with the idea of resurrecting my old vessel, he was a lot of fun but then I thought 'hey, why use second hand protection?"

"I don't think-"

"Oh, do give those athletic jaw muscles a break, dear."

"Where the hell did you send him?!" Demanded Dean, staring into the space in which Gabriel had just zapped Cas away from.

"Oh don't worry your little self, he's perfectly safe."

"Wow, when did you take the asshole pill? Oh wait, I forgot; you already were."

"Now, Dean, no need to get offensive; I need a chat."

"Well get talking Gabby; I don't like your voice that much anyway, let alone when it's directed at me."

"I might even wait a while before I send you back now, I'm enjoying old you." Dean laughed; his insults obviously not getting past that thick, cocky skull of his.

"Can you send me back once I saved my ass please?" It was an innocent -if sarcastically toned- question and Dean didn't see anything wrong with it.

"Well... Let me think about that one... No." Dean bit his cheek to stop him saying something rash. A thing that was new to him. A survival instinct he had developed while travelling with his future selves, no doubt.

"Why?" He asked politely, his blood rushing to his cheeks.

"Can't have you reverting; not after all the hard work we put in. It's not like you'll remember any of this once I'm through with you."

"Revert?! To what? You want this to be my future?!"

"No, I want you be exactly who you are. I want to do as you are told for once and not question it. Now be a good boy and go play with Cassie."

"I don't care what you think is going to happen to me! I can decide what I do."

"You think you have a choice? You think if you had a choice you would be in this mess anyway?"

"Now I know what will happen I can stop it. I can stop this life. All of it. I can tell Cas to go back to heaven; not to get involved with us. Me and Sammy can, I don't know. Hire a psychiatrist?"

"I'm sorry Dean. That's not what god wants."

"Who gives a rat's ass about what god wants? If he wants it so bad, why can't he come down and get it? What is with all the foreplay?!"

"Dean Winchester, I am going to say this only once so listen up, cupcake. God had a plan; a prophecy that he whispered across the cosmos. With all your arrogance and pizzazz you went and screwed it up royally, in a way we can't just go back and fix. Now we have to hammer you - pound you - in to the man you were meant to be. It was working and now you have yet again tried to come and stop it."

"God wants me to be a broken, corrupt drunk, who sleeps with anything and everyone?"

"No Dean, that's what you are now. From what I could tell from the message, 2016 you is almost ready for the final task.-"

"What-"

"Don't interrupt me. Everyone - including me - tried to get you to accept fate but you still pull your own ropes; you're too god damn selfish to realize you are just one man in a world of 7 billion. You're a toddler. You can't be human for this, Dean. No human can injure the final task. In the original scriptures, your father didn't swerve back into the life of a hunter after your mother's death. He slowly became insane; eventually dying in his bed. Your brother went off on his own, leaving you to fend for yourself even more than now. You numbed. Your life was over with no knowledge of the Supernatural and eventually, when god popped the question, you said yes. You walked down the aisle in a pretty pink dress carrying a deadly bouquet. We tried taking Cas away when he got to close but look what happened with that one. And maybe Sam is taking a little longer to leave after a few close calls, but he will go eventually. You'll either kick him out, he'll die or get bored of you with his new lifestyle. It will end up with just a numb, dead Dean who doesn't even delight in decadence; and an angel who will carry him over the threshold and guide you through your planned fate. So don't go saying god was the one that messed this up. God isn't the one who had it wrong. Were just compensating for your families messes."

"Why didn't you tell me this when we first met?"

"I didn't know until we first met. I've known for about 4 months and now everything is fitting into place. Why you have had to suffer so much; God is trying to find your breaking point, and squeeze it like a spot. He's nearly found it and we can't have you cocking that up."

"What is this grand task?"

"You've got to rip up heaven."

"Again? Why?"

"If an angel rips up heaven, as Cassie did, the angels will always rebuild. If a 'human' burns it to the ground, nothing can be done."

"Why would god want his own angels dead? Why are you going along with it? It'll kill you too."

"A. Haven't you ever heard of a clean slate? We're as corrupt as you guys except we can't afford to be. B. I have passed my fighting stage. Do you know how old I am?"

"Hang on; if God wants me to be broken, why the hell has this all happened anyway? You said you tried to kill off Cas, but god kept bringing him back. God made my dad, couldn't he of come down a whispered it in his ear? Can't he rip up heaven; he'll do it a lot quicker than me. Why not let me try it now?! You go back to that balding bitch and tell him I am never turning into whatever I am right now. You fly off to your master and tell him I'd love to meet the wife."

"God works in mysterious ways"

"Oh do shut up, brother." Came a fed up, sarcastic voice from behind Dean. As he swung round to the voice, he saw in front of him something he'd never expect to see. It was a man, no taller than Cas; he was dressed in a pair of ripped, hip-swinging jeans and a waist coated shirt. His hair was pricked up; as if he had electricity running through him. The best part - or worst depending on your perspective - was that Dean couldn't look away. This man had something in his golden eyes, a certain smell, a certain feel about him that just felt right. This new man was smiling, the brightest of lips showing the whitest of teeth.

"Not right now, Gabby." The man pulled a Sam style bitch face before walking straight past Dean into Gabriel's face and, with a touch of his fingers, sent the obviously irritating angel somewhere else. "Bloody, hypocritical little piece of angel sputum" Turning to face Dean with a poetic 'hello', dean shook. He'd never heard hello be said poetically. Trying not to look like a stunned fan girl who'd just seen their idol naked, he straightened his jacket and released the breath he was holding.

"You're god?" Dean guessed, the hairs on the back of his neck standing to attention. The angelic man chuckled, the giant shadow of wings behind his shaking.

"No," He laughed again. "No, Dean Winchester, I am not."

"Then who are you" Dean couldn't help the way his words slurred. No, he wasn't gay but this dude? He was literally glowing and something was either ridiculously right, or wrong. Dean hadn't decided.

"I am the Metatron." Snapped out of his longing, Dean huffed.

"You're a transformer?"

"No, the 'scribe of god', although Megatron is cool too. Scribe's a bit of a weird title. Bit old fashioned for my tastes."

"Right, so, why are you here?" Dean questioned; fighting against the urge to just drool all over the fully grown man facing him. What was he? Seven?

"The only reason I am ever anywhere. I have a message." Metatron slouched, sliding his hands into his pockets; his head tilting curiously "A very important one. I am sorry to have brought you here; the fat one felt it necessary. No clue why, as usual. But, no point wasting your time, here" Slipping his hand back out clutching a white note, he held it out to Dean who just looked back at it with confusion.

"No, wait. If I'm only here to get a message, why the hell didn't you come sooner?" Metatron looked awkwardly to the floor.

"Didn't really want to be near that thing you called a brother. No offence."

"Oh believe me, none taken." Dean laughed humorlessly, still taken in by the beauty streaming out of the man's everything.

"So, you going to take it or leave me hanging?" Dean went to take it before another stream of questions buzzed in his head.

"Am I going to be able to read this?"

"Like I didn't translate it for you. What you think I am? I do this professionally." Dean nodded, still a little dazed by the aura this man was leaking.

"Why can't the 'fat one' give it to me? Why does he need you?"

"Don't call him fat, he gets offended-"

"But you called him fat."

"I've seen him, we've reached that point. And he's not stupid; if he appeared even for a Nano of a Nano second, only he knows how many creatures and hunters would grab the opportunity to slit his godly throat. Do you know how much shit he's stirred. I'm running out of things to write it all on." Dean smiled; somewhat out of character.

"Oh yeah, sorry; just forgot to turn down the special effects. Just been with some Sheppard's. I mean seriously; someone visits one dude to tell em' to go visit the son of god, and suddenly that's what everyone is doing. The same plot gets a bit boring after a while." Dean found himself considerable less drawn to the man as the warm fuzz he was unaware that had been running over him was snatched away. "Right, now. My arms getting tired so if you would do me the most gracious favour and take the note?" Dean took the note and skimmed the top. It was all messy and scribbled out. Raising an eyebrow at the angel, Metatron shrugged back. "Can't a man have a draft?" Dean read the note, starting with a rushed need to be finished before he realized what the words said; what was written in beautiful black calligraphy on the lined page.

It read:

'The problem with me, Dean; my one fundamental flaw is that I care. I can't see to watch my favourite creations hurt. I know what I have to do, but I doubt I can bring myself to do it. I would rather push you through your fate, even though it is not what you deserve than spare another unfortunate, unprepared soul from it. I love you, Dean. You are my son, I am your friend, and I just wish we had met under different circumstances. I wish I didn't have to destroy everything and waste a life as fruitful as yours, but even I, the creator of freewill have to follow some rules; there is someone else out there Dean. I am not the strongest there is. I have orders, as you have yours and I wish I could be as strong as you to disband them. Truth is, Dean Winchester I need you. Yes, God - creator of all things needs a lowly human hunter but I am alone. In this vast universe there are so few of us and watching you, in a sick twisted way is fun. I see you when you are happy, when you fall down and think there is no redemption. I see you when you in your most open times and admittedly in your most private. I have seen you develop. I have no script so everything is new; I am watching and learning. After countless millennia I am still learning, Dean. I am still evolving as you do. You ask me to help with everything; you ask me to disobey and change things even more than I have allowed already, but I am not as strong as your misconception sees me. I am just a man who was born into a race which can create and destroy at will; that does not imply that I want to.

I will see you very soon, Dean.

G.O.D'

"Obviously that's not word for word; most of the words haven't even been invented yet so I had substitute em'. That guy, doesn't even know what era it is. Most of it, to be honest was just too complex and brilliantly said that I rearranged it a bit. God writes weirdly; all flowing and connected. I keep telling to use shorthand, it would be soo much easier but 'oh no' the humans must be impressed. Arrogant git, sometimes he is." Dean didn't really hear the man's casual words as he re-read the words; each sentence changing the way he thought about this particular deity; the 'task' being explained, yet leaving a mystery and knowing that his future was quickly catching up with him.

"So what do I do now?"

"Well, i'd say go home but you're practically screaming to stay so, I can wait."

"You're making it hard to be serious"

"Why be serious? You've got ages. Knowing him, he'll probably just procrastinate everything; even death and you wont even be called upon. Sort your current shit out and leave the future for the future. Now, I have one rule; don't touch Sam-"

"But that is why I want to stay. Why can no one grasp that?"

"No, just listen; I know that's hard but it's only for a moment. Be you, hang out with Cas, remind that stoned little angel about who you were. Laugh, play, do what you want to do - not including anything alcoholic or druggy - and enjoy yourself. Drag Cas back into the world of 'innocent-ish' fun. But, whatever you do, stay away from le prostitutes. Do it in front of Sam and make him see what went wrong. But don't tell god I'm telling you this. He doesn't pay that much attention anymore. As long as he doesn't find out and you don't make it too obvious, you might be able to make Sam leave you happily; not in a casket or with a gun on your head." After a long period of eye gazing and mutual understanding, Dean stored that in his brain and reverted to trying to answer the swarm of questions spinning round in his aching head.

"So it was you who brought me here?"

"Qui, didn't realize there would be a case. You might want to make a note; don't be that careless with your future selves in the... future? I don't think Cassie realizes how hard it is to bring him back every time he decides 'not to fight back'; it' exhausting. I'm going to have to have a chat with him when he gets back."

"Wait, you gave Cas his powers back?"

"Well, he looked bored."

"Either you have a screw loose, or your a fun ass angel"

"Arch-angel, if you'll please. Call me Megan, everyone else does. Metatron makes me sound all formal and official-ly. Why would god create a man to be his friend forever and his only company and make him a dick? He wouldn't; and so I wish to banish that name. If only he would let me change that..." 'Megan' drifted off into a thoughtful revere.

"Hey," nudged Dean, "Talking of Cas, where did Fun-Bags send him?"

"Just back to Sam, he's trying to explain to Sammy-kins how he's back. I should probably let him know it was me."

"I can't keep us with this any more" Admitted Dean laughing at how easily the angel seemed to understand all this.

"Ah, don't beat yourself up; you're 6 years behind, you got a lot of catching up to do my friend. Anyway, you seem fun. Might hang around for a bit. Like I said, the Sheppard's weren't much fun."

**...**

**This is the point when Dean Winchester's tale starts. If there is one thing almost all the angels are superb at; the one area in which they all seem to excel, is misguiding the truth. Yes, Dean was set a task from god, just not the one Gabriel or Megan told.**


	11. Tops and bottoms

Dean found, much to his surprise that travelling via half-mad, french archangel was ever so different than via a standard angel. It wasn't a time difference or any visual change; it was more of a feeling, an overwhelming rush of something that he couldn't quite put his finger on. It was like Cas was travelling in a Ferrari at 500 mph but with Megan he had his head out the window; that sort of feeling.

Dean liked it.

Within mere moments of Megan's fingers brushing his forehead, he found himself standing next to Cas in Sams room at the hotel; said man standing in the corner, arms crossed.

"Dean?" Asked Sam rhetorically, his hands falling back down to his sides. He looked surprised to see him, unsurprisingly.

"Sammy" Dean relayed, Megan's and Gabriel's words fluttering around in his head; he smiled at his brother then turned to smile at Cas. Whether his acting was up to par with the Arch-angels expectations was unknown; he guessed he'd just have to pray.

"I guess Gabriel brought you here?" Questioned Sam walking up closer to Dean in the rather nose-offensive room.

"No, Megan" Corrected Dean, not quite understanding why an all powerful arch-angel would want to be called Megan. Well, perhaps if he was into that sorta thing...

"Oh god, what does he want now?" Laughed Sam, obviously knowing who he was talking about. He wondered just how much could be crammed into 6 years, and how much he wouldn't be able to change after all.

"His intentions seemed innocent enough." Dean countered, Sitting down on the edge of the bed. He caught Cas out the corner of his eye; he wasn't looking at them, but at the ceiling. He was muttering words; having a full blown conversation with himself. If Dean would just stop lying to himself for a few moments; he may of even admitted that he was worried.

"I don't think he knows the word innocent. If he does, I doubt he is." Sam was about to join Dean when his phone inconveniently buzzed in his back pocket. With a simple 'sorry' Sam hurried out the room, answering the phone call with an even less complicated 'hello'. Dean looked at the trench coat, black suit and backwards tie that Cas was wearing; trying not to listen to the varying words being... well, sung now. It all looked clean; almost pristine. His shoes were polished his hair slicked back and he cheeks newly freed of any facial hair. To be honest, a little bit too clean. Dean laughed, taking his little monologue as a confession that he liked it rough; which was always going to be true, though perhaps in this context, a little too true.

Dean stopped laughing at that.

"So, what's it like having your bad-ass back?" Dean mused, breaking the angel from his own little world and himself from anymore inner tortures A look of brief indecision crossed the angel's face, along with a twitch at the side of his mouth and blink of his eyes.

"...Invigorating" He decided on, not looking down.

"Well, you don't seem awfully invigorated by it now." He reasoned, trying to brighten the pretty darkened tone.

"You wouldn't understand, Dean." He raised an eyebrow; the angel was underestimating him.

"Well, explain; I've handled it well so far." Dean reckoned enthusiastically.

"I want not to stretch your imagination too far; lets just say I'd forgotten what it feels like... To be an angel." Dean shifted his weight on the bed to his elbow; not knowing what to do, getting a feeling that this would soon turn into some cheap chick-flick moment.

"So, what does it feel like?" He pressed, trying to break Cas' glass exterior.

"Invigorating."

"Got that," He chuckled "but you look- upset?"

"I am not upset Dean, just not used to not feeling everything in the way I did. I was fine until I sat down. Perhaps we should find something to do." Dean grabbed this chance.

"What about a game?" Cas' eyes flared, his face looking down in panic; Looking like he just asked him out on a date. "Or not?..." Concluded Dean as Cas swallowed nervously.

"I would prefer something less..." Cas sighed, his terrified expression fading from his face, replaced with a small smile "Oh, sorry; I forgot... You were... you."

"What is future me doing that made you that scared?" Seeing the Angels brow crease, he swallowed himself, "Or do I not want to know?"

"It is nothing I would normally find bad; just not today. Do not worry, my emotions are a 'bit out of whack'." Dean laughed at the awkward sue of expressions. This was Cas; bad ass angel and savior of Dean Winchester. Well at the moment he looked a bit like a hobo.

"Well, you seem an awful lot like my Cas."

"Back with that level of emotional attachment, I am." Without another word, Cas disappeared leaving a very confused, slightly worried Dean. Perhaps this wasn't going to be as easy as he thought. Everything was happening too fast. He didn't know where he was, what he was doing or what he was even trying to achieve. He'd just have to stick with his instincts and hope.

"Ugh" He mumbled to himself. Hope wasn't a thing he usually did. He wondered out of Sam's room, hearing Sam laugh down a phone somewhere down the empty corridor. He walked into his own room met by the two angels he had previously been chatting to. Gabriel was spread like some sort of french girl on his bed; Megan leaning in the door frame. He continued his walk in, watched by four uninterested eyes.

"Well, that was fun." Dean muttered, running a hand through his greasy hair.

"I tried to tell you that this wasn't going to work. See how much you've got to work with? 6 years to make up for; 7 in all truth although we tend to discount that."

"Don't bring that into this, Cindy" bit back Megan. Dean tried to ignore the bits about his future, in all honesty he'd rather not know. He had been given a chance to change things, he would. If he was going to be screwed with, bring it on. His future was his future. He'd never been one to listen to fate. Instead he just groaned, collapsing onto his own bed, jerking up Gabriel who snapped himself into the other corner.

"I need my four hours guys." He muttered, leaning back on the bed."

"That's weird," Megan muttered, raising an eyebrow. "usually you stay up till like 6 and sleep during the day; though that's usually because of-"

"Don't scare the man." Gabriel interrupted smirking slyly. Dean was just about to stand up before his tiredness tugged him back to the slightly cleaner sheets beneath him.

"What is up with Cas? Huh? He's moping and hissing at everything." Dean was aware that the tendrils of sleep were calling him more than ever; Gabriel's voice was like music in this vessel, a soft lullaby. Well it was until he started talking about Cas again.

"He's an angel again, Dean; do you not remember what he told you? How he hated it all even without his powers. Imagine how he feels now; he's connected with us again. He can feel our disappointed and happiness that he's back. Doesn't mean he doesn't want to revert back to his old habits. He was addicted after all. He's just conflicted Dean. He'll learn to bypass it eventually."

"Is the only reason you gave Cas his mojo back after all this time because you thought he looked bored." Dean said, broken in two by a rather intrusive yawn.

"Let me put it this way; I wasn't letting a full blown angel on the loose with you two around him. No way Jose."

"Well that's... nice..." Yawned Dean, his eyes losing the fight to stay open. "Just I've me... 4 hours..." With a stretch and a muttered 'okay' from the angels, Dean found himself cascading into the caverns of unconsciousness with no intention of coming back for as long as he could hustle.

As soon as the angels were sure he was asleep, they began their own little conversation.

"Well, your plan is coming on swimmingly" Gabriel commented sarcastically; snapping Dean into some rather fetching matching pajamas and tucking him in.

"Better than your scare them to death tactics."

"Seriously? You know Daddie-o will be pissed as grizzly bear served with salad for his lunch."

"Come on, like he pays attention."

"The one time you say that, brother. Don't blame me when you get your ass knocked all the way down to cherub."

"Look, give it time; Cas knows how it's inevitably going to end anyway. I've done my research, I've got you backing me and not a fly knows about it. We'll be fine, it'll work; Capish?" With that, the brothers left each others company; preferring the solitude of silence over the angelic allocation they forced upon each other.

* * *

Dean awoke to the eyes of Sam who was sitting beside him, looking down.

"You got a visitor, they didn't want to wake you; I did" He whispered, pointing his head in the direction of a still sleep blurred Megan.

"What do you want?" Dean groaned once Sam had left to go have a shower and find Cas.

"To ask what your plan is. I thought it might be best if we both knew what was going to go down in groove ville." He unwillingly ripped himself from his sleep fueled drunkenness ."No idea" Dean pulled himself off of the mattress and lent his back against the head board, his elbows propping him up.

"Well, all you said was have fun. I take it you mean safe fun but was is safe fun? Do want me to take them to a circus and pray there's not killer clown? Pop over to a beach and pray no one is pulled under by a raging spirit? What the hell is safe?"

"Look, Dean. By safe, I mean no drugs, no booze if you can help it and nothing even remotely to do with prossy-sex? Do you get me? I don't care if you go driving down a motor way a breakneck speeds. Cas has got his mojo back, go on a Trip round the world again. I know you love games; pretty sure Cas has grown attached to the idea over the past few years. Go to the Cinema and watch a rom-com. You could go all out and get Gabriel to create a whole new universe for you, just for a day. Just do something that will remind Sammy, you and Cas what a family actually feels like." He paused for a second, his words caught on a breath. "Isn't it nearly Christmas?"

"Err, it's December 18th."

"Well, you've never done anything Christmassy, why not start now?" He hauled himself off the mattress completely; feeling his muscles creak and protest against him. He looked down with disdain; pink bunny pajamas seemed a little too much this morning.

"I don't do Christmas" He moaned walking over to his drawers, pulling clothes out that either belonged to he or Cas. They'd be similar sizes, Cas couldn't of been that much different to him. The angel turned around to let the girly hunter get changed into something more appropriate for what he had planned.

"Neither do I, but sometimes you gotta make exceptions." Zipping up his newly put on jeans, he considered the options.

"So what? I take us to a Santa's grotto and sit on some Pedo's knee? Yeah, why not"

"As much as i am one for sarcasm, I wasn't joking. You haven't celebrated a single Christmas like a normal family. You haven't got any demons or ghosts or creeps to worry about anymore; take a leap, start a trend. _Live a little_." Sniffing the dark green and brown top before he put it on, he decided this was Cas' shit. No way did he ever smell like _that_. Sliding the slightly large top over his head he resisted the urge to punch that angel of the absent lord.

"Perhaps we could go to a nativity." The joke was missed with the angel; instead of making Megan angry as it was intended, he was sent into a snort of laughter.

"I remember when Gabe played himself; I don't think the poor girl who played Mary was quite ready for that. Anyway, I can't be bothered to plan anymore; lets do something fun." Walking up to an even more irritated Dean before wrapping a sole arm around his shoulders, he whipped them both into a dodgy looking garage; a huge grin slapped on his face, eyes crinkling in delight.

"Don't touch me, please" Pleaded Dean playfully, backing away from the chirpy archangel, hands in the air in a mock defense "Why the hell are we here, anyway?" He asked, looking around, judging his surroundings. All he got was an eyeful of damp, concrete walls and a nose full of moldy socks.

"I want you to meet someone. Me and her are quite close and I warn you she's-" Before he could finish, a thin woman appeared in front of Megan,

"Ahh, bonjour mes amis!" Megan strode up to the newly arrived brunette took her adroit hand in his and placed a chivalrous gentile kiss on her knuckles. With a smile and a petite bow, she withdrew her pasty hand.

"'Bonjour, mon Metatron. How long has it been?" Her Accent was so thick, Megan almost sounded American.

"Far too long, my good lady. Far, far too long."

"You are losing your accent, darling. You promised you would not." The woman placed a delicate, bony hand on her hip and gave him a stern look of judgment.

"I grew bored of Paris over the centuries, my Texan may start slipping if I'm not careful."

"Please do not lose your grande French demeanor to become a lowly," He gaze shifted to the very much amused Dean in the corner, "American pig-dog." Dean laughed, finding it hard to be insulted by a small, mademoiselle in a corset and jeans.

"Is something tickling your funny-boné?" She remarked, her eyebrow raising and mouth curling in disgust.

"Didn't know I'd done something to offend you."

"It is not you who I find repulsive; you are an American, and so are no friend of mine."

"Sorry," Megan whispered in Dean's general direction, "old views die very hard."

"Do not talk about me as if I cannot hear, mon idiot précieux; I am old, not decrepit."

"I can only apologize, my honey-suckle. Dean over there is a bit behind, I'm weaning him in."

"Perhaps you should put his massive cul in a diaper, he may feel more comfortable." Dean shook his head, both confused and amused by her blatant and unworthy dislike of him.

"Why are you even here?" She asked of Metatron, looking back into his face.

"For Dean, my dear. You may not approve, but I do."

"Then you are a fool. I can smell the corruption on him. It smells like angel and leather; wet dog and sick." Dean was too tired and too in need of a cold beer for this; but he was going to take a laugh in this hell where he could get it.

"I think that may just be him generally." 'Thanks' mouthed Dean in fake offense.

"Then you need a shower" She directed at Dean, holding her nose high and her chest proud. Dean wasn't sure she was entirely wrong; this shirt didn't smell as good as it did when he put it on.

"You're acting as if I did something wrong. What the hell did the Americans do to you?" Receiving a warning look from the waist-coated arch-angel and a death stare from the other, she turned to face him.

"Oh, you know, nothing much. Just burnt me at the stake for being a witch. Nothing major."

"Don't blame 'em'" Dean muttered to himself, praying to Cas that she didn't hear. Seems as if she didn't; or if she did, she was cultivating new and shining was to rip his balls off.

"You called." Dean spun round to the incredibly close Cas. His heart a little panicked by the sudden and unexpected entrance.

"Castiel?" Came the woman's voice, from behind him. As a response, Cas took a step back from where he was, away from dean and looked into the face of the woman.

"Rebekah?" He asked, no emotion being played on his face. "Why are you here?" Dean couldn't tell if that was fear or confusion on Cas' forehead but it didn't look like a good sign. All Dean knew was that he was now uncomfortably outnumbered by angels.

"Well, aren't you a sight for sore eyes." The spite was crisp in her tone; almost enough to make the hardened Dean wince. Almost. A hateful aura soaked the room, Cas and 'Rebekah' staring hatefully into the others eyes. Megan was behaving like a junior clown in the corner; displaying his uncomfortable on his face, swaying from leg to leg, his tight jeans crinkling.

"What are you doing here; you are not needed. Leave." The scowl that was growing was a little worrying; even Megan looked the tiniest bit hesitant.

"Ah, Castiel; I'm hurt that you aren't pleased to see me. In actual fact, I am needed. For you, again. Always for you and I hope one day you might actually be grateful but i doubt that; you have as much room in your heart for me as I do you." Cas' chest puffed, his head towering over the woman who he now stalked towards. Megan, obviously getting a little too uncomfortable shimmied round to were dean was still standing; observing.

"Why on this Earth did you call him?" He whispered, annoyed yet curious.

"I didn't know if I even thought his name he'd turn up."

"Give a man the option to come to the man they love with in mere milliseconds and not have to drive, even if they don't really need to be there and they'll take it; ceremoniously or not." Dean was about to question Megan's choice of words but instead got a rather unexpected body full of Cas. With a few disgruntled grunts and mislaid elbows, they both landed in a heap by the corner of the garage; Deans back indenting the thin metal grating. Before Dean could even register, Cas had gotten up - half using Dean as a support - and started his journey back over. Coughing and trying to regain the air in his lungs that had been knocked out, he watched as the scene before him played out: An intervening Metatron tried successfully to separate a pride-wounded Cas from a clearly angry whatever-she-was. She was screaming at Cas about something; Dean wasn't sure, even though he was perfectly able, that he wanted to get up.


End file.
